


doom days

by kuro49



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2019 Treat, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Jason Todd is Robin, Love Confessions, M/M, sex over comms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21799627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: Robin runs through town each and every night flashing the colours of traffic lights. He has never been one for subtlety.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 111
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2019





	doom days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noctiphany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctiphany/gifts).



> i wanted to focus on the adjustment from street to manor life like your prompt originally asked for but that definitely did not happen 😂 i hope this still managed to tick off some boxes for you to make this a merry kinkmas!

Jason like _likes_ Bruce.

It's simple. No more simpler to explain than a man being grateful to the kindness of others. If told he is too young to know what that means, that like is different than like _like,_ that like _like_ might even be an indicator something that runs much much deeper, well then. 

Jason is young. But he is not a child.

Children do not survive for this long on the streets of Gotham and come out intact.

Bruce doesn't just take him in, Bruce takes him home. Practically like he is made for him, here is a man with a saviour complex and a kid with survival instincts that falls perfectly within its circle.

The bed he gives him is soft and vast. Fluffy down pillows and silk sheets. Heated floors in a connecting bathroom that runs hot water each and every time without fail.

It's a filled pantry. It's fresh fruits. It's a full stomach on any given night.

"What the _fuck_."

"Language, Jason."

From next to him, at the threshold of a bedroom Bruce calls just his, Jason looks the man in the eyes and pointedly gives him a funny look to say: "What the fucking _fuck_ , Bruce."

Jason doesn't think he would get used to it even in small graduating doses. This absurdity to luxury with all of its excess.

And he doesn't, not entirely anyways.

He does get used to a few things though:

Being Robin.

Being with Bruce.

A month after he makes his debut as Robin to patrol Gotham trailing Batman's cape, Jason climbs into Bruce's lap.

Green scaly shorts riding up even higher than they already do, he brandishes bruised knees to shuffle close. Jason reaches out with both hands to tug Batman's cowl off for him, pulling Bruce to face him.

An uncomfortable expression, and in the face of it, he _laughs_. 

Not with any hint of malice but rather a sweet bright thing to bring to mind of a brand new little robin unmarred by all the terrible things that come out in the night.

Bruce wants, and that's already where it went wrong. "Ja—"

"Listen, B." Jason starts, fingers in Bruce's hair, neatly trimmed nails brushing through sweat soaked locks. "You're gon' have a lot more to apologize for if you try to tell me that I don't need to do this or I'm better than this or whatever else you think you know about what's supposed to be _good_ for me."

Good or bad or any of all the gray stuff in between that makes it hard: Jason likes Bruce. He also likes the Bat. The way they both slide seamlessly into one another when the big bad Bat's kindness softens out the cruel edges of a rich white man that plays society to all of its disadvantages to be someone that isn't utter scum of the earth.

Bruce doesn't want anything from him.

And maybe that's why, in his finite wisdom, Jason wants to give the man everything of his. 

"I've fucked guys older than you are, Bruce Thomas Wayne." Jason keeps going, barrels through Bruce's suspicions and all those questions he can't bear to ask for fear of the people he must hurt with knowing his new Robin's past. "And none of them love me like you do."

"Is that supposed to make this okay?" Bruce answers, throat dry, lips cracked, his hands knowing there are no place to settle on this _boy_ in his lap that would make any of this remotely okay.

"Get over yourself." Jason tells him, takes both of Bruce's hands by the wrists and drags them to his waist. Settles them high up enough that if Bruce wants, he can move him anywhere. That if Bruce truly doesn't want him, he can remove him completely. Jason chews on the inside of his cheeks, and he could just about chew them bloody then right through when he asks for proof. "You love me, yes?" 

It's an impossible moment where any answer is the wrong one yet.

When Bruce lets go of Jason at the waist, brings his hands up to cup his cheeks, all rosy from a night spent patrolling out in the Gotham chill, here is every ounce of sincerity held together by stuff stronger than even Bat-grade superglue.

"With everything I have, Jay."

Jason goes from pink to red, bites down even harder, this time to keep the smile from taking over his entire face.

Even in the dim churning gut of the Manor itself, it still feels like sunshine across their mouths when Bruce leans down each time Jason stands on his tip toes for a kiss.

“Cardinal and Cornerstone. In progress street level robbery.” 

Jason relays over comms as he listens in on the encrypted radio channels of the GCPD. Dispatch airing information to units already tied up on other emergencies spread out across a city that runs rampant with crime.

“Knife seen. Suspect on foot, last seen headed east bound on Cornerstone four minutes ago.”

Curt and brisk and every bit Batman, Bruce answers: “On my way.”

Jason watches the blinking red dot of the man's location move across the map from a stationary point by the docks where he was doing surveillance.

“Victim still on scene." Jason voices the updates as they come in, sitting in front of the computer with his right leg in a cast, keeping everything just below the knee in place. It was the result of an admittedly high fall that came into a brutal landing, but really, he is just lucky that it is sprained and not broken. "No injuries, just shaken up.”

"Noted." 

A pause, then.

“Thank you, Robin.” 

Batman is still short with his words but there is a fair amount of Bruce injected in the way _Robin_ wraps so nicely across his tongue.

It's that one single word, but also the way it gathers all the heat in his veins to rush just beneath the skin. Bruce's Batman voice always gets Jason hot under the collar.

Bruce's location indicates he is halfway to the intersection of Cardinal and Cornerstone when a breathy sigh escapes over the comm line, just a bit rough, like it's been through the wringer but sweeter, sounding entirely too much like it could be _B_ for the man to ignore it completely.

“Robin.”

It's that one word again, near silent beneath the rush of the Gotham breeze. 

Robin runs through town each and every night flashing the colours of traffic lights, he has never been one for subtlety.

“Sorry, boss.” They always try to keep comm lines clear but it's hard when _he's_ so hard, a second sigh coming out all warped up in a throaty muffled moan when Jason gets all sheepish like that to admit. “I couldn’t wait.”

Two fingers worked inside of himself, both pressed all the way in to the second knuckle.

Only it's hardly deep enough for Jason to hit any of the spots that truly makes it _good,_ at least not in the way that B does it anyway. Neither is the two fingers stretching him wide enough for it to be satisfying in the way that B always makes it.

Jason keeps an open line, lets Bruce hear him whimper as he tries for a third even when he can't quite get it all in, the angle awkward with the way he is sitting. His good knee hooks over one of the arm rest of the chair while his bad one dangles from the seat, legs spread as wide as he can get them in front of the computer console.

Jason pants loudly and roughly, sleep shirt pushed up to underneath his armpits as he wraps his other hand around his cock to jerk himself off. Grip harder than the way Bruce would have it, less gentle around the edges when he runs a thumb over the head, weeping precum, all sticky and translucent.

"You'll be back soon, won't you, B?" Jason's voice goes wobbly when he asks, sounding almost meek even when that have never once been found in his personality in any way, shape, or form.

His audience of one bites out a grunt, filtered through the Batman voice, it's truly iron will that Jason doesn't come right then and there. 

Three blocks east of Cardinal and Cornerstone, there is an assailant tied up then cuffed to the light post in plain view while Batman stands atop the adjacent apartment building watching overhead.

"Four minutes out." Batman says over their private line, cuts clean through the inconsistently soft little noises his Robin keeps filtering down from the pretty pink of his parted mouth to the earpiece in his cowl.

"To the Cave?" Robin asks even though he knows that's not it, not when he can see the map taking up a good quarter of the computer screen and where Batman's location stubbornly stays put.

"To police arrival."

Long and loud, Robin lets out a groan in disappointment, in longing and mourning. "Aw, _fuck_."

"Language, Robin."

Jason's laugh tumbles over comms in answer even when it is let out between a particularly pornographic moan and a low heated whine that sounds awfully like _fuckin' hell, Batman_.

Batman sweeps into the Cave as one cascading shadow.

"Welcome back, boss." Robin chirps, unperturbed, like he doesn't have his hand around his cock and two fingers rubbing against his inner walls, the sounds all soft and slick. His hands don't stop, and it feels good but not nearly enough now that the real thing is so close. He glances up from beneath his lashes to catch the Bat's stare from over the top of the computer chair, and holds it.

It's a moment, then two.

Bruce takes off his cowl on his own volition, and it's a testament of his willpower alone that he doesn't just manhandles Jason on to the computer table itself so he can bend him neatly in half to fuck into. If Bruce was a good man, none of this would happen at all. Instead, he is salvaging a situation where the ruins stretch into the horizon and well beyond his reach.

"Jason."

" _B_."

Jason sighs out, his mouth turning upwards almost lazily into a smile, eyes half-lidded and knowing, like he can imagine precisely what Bruce is thinking of as he waits for Bruce to make the next move. 

Bruce is careful with him when he lifts him out of the chair so the man can take his place, sets him down into his lap and over the broad seat his thighs make so Jason's injured leg is properly supported.

"Long night?" Jason asks, glint in his eyes, falters only when Bruce takes one of his hands into his and draws it into his mouth, making Jason groan at the way Bruce's tongue laves hot and wet around his fingers, tasting the deep parts of him.

"You made it longer." Bruce answers once he lets Jason's fingers fall from between his lips.

Pulling off the gauntlets to drop them to the floor, Bruce doesn't give any warning at all before he is sinking two thick fingers inside of Jason.

Jason chokes back a few choice profanities to settle for a keen. He grabs at Bruce's wrists to hold on. He can feel the rigid edge of Batman all along his back, each line hard and unforgiving while he writhes in a sleep shirt that is worn thin and soft.  He takes him well, _so_ well, like he's been practicing. Eager too when he tries to shift in Bruce's lap to take those fingers deeper inside. 

Bruce growls out Jason's name in full, _Jason Peter Todd_ , and gets him stilling his hips, sinking all of his weight down into the warm tight hold of Bruce's arms. 

Jason's kept himself at the edge all night long for exactly this, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock each time he gets too close to stave off that ultimate need for it to be Bruce's hands and Bruce's mouth and Bruce's cock to fill him all the way up. He tips his head back, resting against Bruce's shoulders, baring his throat to him as he goes all fuzzy at the edge in pleasure.  


When he comes, he comes clenching down on three of Bruce's fingers, rubbing insistently over his prostate until it is too much and he is spilling white over Bruce's fist while Bruce mouths kisses at his jaw, rubbing his scruff along the soft column of Jason's neck. Bruce  doesn't kiss his mouth if only so he can hear each and every last eager noise falling from between his lips, all breathy and wanton and full of need.

Voice cracking roughly on the call of Bruce's name like it's the only thing he knows. 

And it is.

If found out, the agreed upon story goes like this: He is not his son.

Not that it makes it better, but at least it doesn't make it worse. Jason knows the power he has over Bruce, he also knows the imbalance that has to exist between two people of their statures. That perhaps he is made to want this. That perhaps he deserves far better than to be sleeping with a man twice his age and thinks it is love.

To that, Jason can only laugh, sharp and bitter and utterly resentful that this could even be comparatively worse to what should have happened to him a long time ago. Born inside of her bowels and bred along her streets, he was always doomed to die in the twisting alleyways of Gotham until now.

"Fuck me?" Jason asks in the lull when he finally comes down from his post-orgasmic haze, feeling like all of his bones have gone soft while he stays perched in Bruce's lap.

Bruce is typing a report into the computer with only one hand, Jason's only relatively sure it's the one that wasn't just inside of him. The man is still mostly Batman even though there might or might not be a streak of Robin's cum smeared across a few pieces of his armour. Bruce only pauses to glance down with disbelief in the raise of a single brow.

"Shower then bed."

"And then you'll fuck me?"

Bruce's mouth turns up at both corners just the tiniest fraction. "You're relentless, aren't you?"

He's also a menace. But they aren't in the habit of pointing out the obvious. Jason tips his head back to rest against Bruce's shoulder, shifts all of his weight to settle into the crook of Bruce's arm so Bruce has to stop typing to make sure he doesn't topple over. His mouth pulls into a sweet spoiled grin, flashing just that little bit of teeth that makes it Jason even when eroded down to just that warm red pulse in his veins.

"Would you have me any other way?"

The answer is simple, is never going to be anything other than _no_ , a resounding one to echo if asked to be said again and again.

There is love contained within these four walls, uneven when it bounces from stalactite to stalagmite.

"Can I join you in the shower?"

"You can't get your cast wet."

Jason's tongue peeks out from between his lips. Soft and small and pink and lewd to ask: "Even if I'm already _wet_?"

They settle for Bruce carrying him to the showers, sits him on the bench on the far end so he can watch.

Bruce never makes it a show but Jason enjoys the view anyway. Each piece of the Bat coming off to reveal more of the man underneath. Black and blue on a good night, and red all over if it's not. Jason traces the taut line of Bruce's shoulders with his eyes, dips down to find the tiny divot in his clavicle where he had broken it endless times over, glances lower to the obvious and then even lower to the not so obvious scars all across his torso. 

Bruce looks like a cutting board with a few bullet wounds liberally sprinkled on top, and Jason has to say it because he can never leave anything alone.

"You're a bit of a masochist, aren't you, B?"

Bruce steps into the spray of the water and it's scorching. The way he intimately knows Jason likes it. He rubs the shampoo into his hair before he tips his head back under. Lips pulling thin and flat as he considers Jason's question, settling on: "I don't get hurt because I like to."

"You get hurt because you have to." Jason cocks his head to the side, tracing the line of Bruce's half hard cock that the man resolutely ignores. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

Bruce's chuckle almost dissipates, adding lightly, barely heard over the running water as he scrubs a bar of soap across his chest and pits. "It is."

"How's that goin' for you?" Jason's voice holds steady, doesn't even waver at the deeply troubling thought of Bruce going down for good. He's learning, see.

"I think I still got a couple more years in me." Bruce tells him in the steam that slowly fills the room, the warm timbre a reassurance in itself that Jason clings to.

"And then?"

"And then you'll have filled out enough to wear my suit, and if you'd have me, I can run comms from behind the computer for you."

Jason straightens up, wide open ocean eyes and it's like a shot of adrenaline to the core of him. "Promise?"

Bruce nods with conviction.

"No take backs?"

Bruce shakes his head, amused.

Straining not to smile too hard as he plays it cool, almost nonchalant, like it's a matter of fact even as he swings his legs with vigor. It's Bruce's word to give him his world. It's also Jason's choice that he wants any of it.

"Then that's the plan, Bruce." 

And it was.


End file.
